


Long Time Coming

by JaneDoh7



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDoh7/pseuds/JaneDoh7
Summary: They have only recently been reunited. But maybe restricted alone time is actually more frustrating than being kept apart.Set directly after the scene in 5x08 where FitzSimmons realise they are 'on their own'.





	Long Time Coming

Fitz reluctantly pulled his head back, taking a shuddering breath. “We should stop.”

Jemma’s eyes were still closed, her tongue taking one last swipe where Fitz’s lips had broken from hers, before looking up into his eyes. “Yeah, we should,” she agreed.

Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, almost _too_ fast, and she wondered if it was because some of the beats she could feel were his, radiating from where his chest pressed against hers.

Fitz held her gaze, frozen in place, as if his brain had suggested they stop kissing and forgotten to follow through with further instructions, such as removing his hands that were still locked around her waist.

She let out a controlled breath and she saw Fitz’s eyes shift to her lips, his pupils briefly dilating as a moment of indecision swept through him. He blinked a few times then swallowed deeply, trying to break the biological spell that had him entranced. And then he took a step back, his hand unconsciously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Don’t get me wrong, that was…” he took a deep breath, taking another step back until his backside bumped into the bench, halting any further retreat, “…amazing.”

“Yeah.” It was all Jemma could manage, endorphins still running rampant and precluding anything more profound. Besides, she figured it might be best to not mention anything along the lines of ‘is it just me or is it getting hot in here?’ She backed over to the opposite side of the room and discarded her jacket.

“Just…uhhh,” Fitz fiddled absently with the edges of the bench, “it could get pretty awkward if the others walked in on us.”

“Totally,” Jemma said, opting to lean against the wall.

“You know, someone from the team wandering in,” Fitz was staring at the floor, his mind deviating between imagination and memory, “us…kissing.”

“That would be bad.” She nodded her assent even though her eyes were fixed on the floor, deciding that was a safer area to focus her stare now that Fitz was stirring up images of kissing. Again.

“Yep. Definitely bad.” He shook his head slightly at the thought before looking up at her in horror. “The, the, the…walking in part. Not the kissing. That bit wouldn’t be bad,” he clarified.

Jemma looked up then, and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know, Fitz.”

He smiled back at her shyly. Her smile broadened unconsciously when she saw the desire still in his eyes, and the way his hair now stuck out haphazardly where her fingers had been running through it, and the way his new clothes fit _rather_ snugly against his…

 _Stop,_ she chided herself, averting her eyes to the floor once more. If she didn’t concentrate on something else, they would be right back where they started.

Damn the universe: space had been a cruel enough master, placing them galaxies apart, and now time was having its fun. Jemma inwardly cursed, as though it had a personal vendetta against them; keeping them torturously separated for months - in fact, _decades_ , if you wanted to get technical - and then teasing them with mere snippets of time alone.

Her reverie was broken when she heard Fitz clear his throat and take a few shuffling steps around the confines of the small room. His thumb was rubbing against his index finger, partly to dissipate some excess energy, she surmised, but also because he didn’t cope well with idle hands.

He walked over to the other end of the bench where an array of tools were scattered, picking one up and absently twirling it between his fingers. Those alluring, talented fingers that felt divine whenever he traced them over her…

 _Seriously, stop!_ Jemma scolded herself. Maybe being alone, but not _really_ alone was an even more brutal kind of torment. At least when the others were around there were enough distractions. Jemma Simmons did not manage well with an absence of activity. She needed either her brain, or her body (or both) to be occupied, or she would descend into a unique kind of crazy.

She caught Fitz’s eye briefly, before he turned his back to her and put the tool down. He gripped the edge of the bench, his fingers drumming an inconsistent pattern.

She had no idea when they would be able to resume the task of finding a way home; do something _productive_ instead of trying to pass the time with a myriad of hormones hampering logical decisions. She wondered if Fitz was struggling with restraint as much as she was.

“I have an idea...” Fitz’s voice trailed off.

 _Good ol’ Fitz_. She knew she could count on him and that brilliant mind of his to save them from their current predicament.

“Excellent,” Jemma said, almost too enthusiastically. “Anything.”

“But I will need your help.”

“Of course.”

“And if we are going to do this, you need to follow my instructions exactly.”

“Okay.” If he had a plan to help pass the time, she would gladly participate.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. “It’s just,” he took an encouraging breath. “We probably don’t want to get caught doing this either.”

Jemma was merely relieved before. _Now_ , she was intrigued.

Her eyes skimmed the tools and equipment and rows of chemicals in the room as her mind tried to extrapolate possibilities. She raised one eyebrow, willing him to elaborate but he remained elusive.

“So…what do you need me to do?”

“All you have to do, is stand by the door, and tell me if anyone is coming.”

She twisted on the spot, looking towards the door, then emphatically back at Fitz.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

When Fitz said he had an idea, Jemma assumed she would have more of an active role. She was used to them being a team, but it felt like her presence was almost redundant.

“Really?” she asked. “You aren’t just trying to make me feel included?”

“Your role is implicit.”

She arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Trust me?” The imploring tone was enough in itself, let alone the ridiculously adorable look of innocence he exuded to perfection. It was always her undoing.

She threw he hands up in defeat. “Fine. I’ll just be the lookout then.” She huffed overtly, pretending to be disgruntled with her menial task. But she was actually curious as to his plan, and he knew full well, if his smug look was anything by which to judge.

He was definitely getting cockier these days. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

Jemma rolled her eyes slightly, then sauntered over to the door and started to slide it open.

“Stop!” Fitz said. “You need to keep it closed.”

She hurriedly closed the door and looked at him in confusion. “But…then I can’t see who is coming down the hallway.” She tapped pointedly on the frosted glass.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “You’ll be able to see shadows if anything moves. All you need to do, is tell me _when_ someone is coming.” He flicked one of the light switches, dimming the room, so the hallway light was brighter in contrast.

It took a moment for Jemma’s eyes to adjust but then she could make out vague shapes in the hallway. She leant her forehead against the door, cupping her hand over the side of her face to block the glare of the internal light.

And then she felt Fitz beside her, mirroring her pose as he peered into the milky abyss as well. “See, plenty of time to see if someone comes around the corner and starts heading this way.”

He was right. With the room they were in being darker, they could see out, but anyone out there wouldn’t be able to see in.

 _Of course_ he was right. Sometimes she thought the only reason she questioned him was because she enjoyed the banter.

After all, he was _always_ right.

So, now that she had her task under control, she was eager to see what he was scheming. Not just because she was curious by nature, but also because she didn’t know how much longer she could resist the feel of his chest pressing against her left shoulder, and the short hairs of his beard just barely brushing her cheek, before she shifted position and pushed _him_ up against the door, modesty be damned.

“So, what is this grand plan of yours?” she queried, looking at him sideways.

He turned his head towards her, the smallest smirk ghosting over his face. “You’ll see.”

The ear that had contained the dampening device seemed to be more sensitive than before, because she could _feel_ his words against her ear, triggering a cascade of goose-bumps down her neck.

She hoped it was too dark for him to notice. Intellectually, she knew their agreement to deny their desire was to save themselves from potential embarrassment, yet her body was blatantly betraying her.

Mercifully, he pushed away from the glass. “Okay, you sure you got this under control?” Jemma deliberately avoided turning towards him, instead focusing on the condensation from his breath evaporating off the glass.

“Uh huh,” she confirmed, glad he couldn’t feel how rapidly she was breathing.

“Because your task is just as important,” he assured her. He put his hand on her right hip, sliding behind her until his words were now against her right ear. “So, you think you can manage to not get distracted?”

She still couldn’t work out what the hell he was going to be doing, but she would focus on her mission and not even consider turning around, worried that in her current state, the sight of him alone would be distraction enough. She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, so she nodded her head briefly in response.

He kissed her cheek in gratitude.

Well, at least she _thought_ that was what it was for. Until he lingered a moment longer than warranted. Maybe he was having as difficult a time as her, trying to follow reason instead of succumbing to desire? Didn’t he realise that if he set things like this in motion, she might not have the willpower to stop this time?

There was only so much biology she could fight.

She could feel his chest expand against her back as he took a deep breath. His right hand still rested against her hip, but then his left hand brushed her braid to the side. And when he exhaled, she could feel his breath flooding the nape of her neck.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he had disregarded his previous claim that they should quell their urges.

And then his lips were against the hollow below her ear.

Wait, maybe she really _didn’t_ know any better.

“ _Fitz!_ ” she said in a controlled whisper. “I thought you said no more kissing? This isn’t helping the situation.”

“I didn’t _explicitly_ say no more kissing,” he murmured, placing a kiss against the pulse in her neck before continuing. “I said it would be awkward if we got caught.”

If Jemma thought she felt hot before, it was nothing compared to the wave of heat that swept through her now. Despite the dimness of the room, she knew Fitz’s cheeks were as flushed as hers.

“That’s why you’re on lookout duty.”

 _Ohhhhh_. She may be a genius in the lab, but sometimes her naivety in other areas still astounded her.

 “So why don’t you concentrate on your job,” Fitz suggested when he saw the realisation in her features, “and I’ll focus on mine.”

She felt his right hand slide forward, dipping under her shirt and continuing under her belly button, until his fingers just barely slipped beneath the waistband of her pants.

She bit her bottom lip, calculating the risk-benefit ratio in her head. Currently, the scales were tipping in the latter’s favour.

His fingers lay in wait, splayed across her lower belly. Her body maintained position, but she twisted her head until she was looking into his eyes. And then she gravitated towards him, softly capturing his bottom lip between hers. Jemma savoured the gentle pressure of Fitz’s lips, pushing and pulling without fully breaking contact. But just as a surge of oxytocin started encouraging her to escalate her actions, she felt a brush of cold air against the moisture on her lips, Fitz’s face suddenly an inch away from hers.

A tilt of his head towards the glass, reminding her of her task.

She glanced through the glass then back at Fitz, as though standing in such close proximity yet being denied the feel of his lips against hers was a great injustice. However, if he wanted to play that game, she was willing to take part, because when she was given a job, she would damn well do it to the best of her ability. And Fitz knew it, the cheeky bastard.

She gave him enough of a pout to indicate her displeasure at the prematurely broken contact, then quickly gave him a rebellious peck on the lips before her forehead resumed its previous position. The glass felt cool against her skin but the trail of hot kisses Fitz created down her neck to her shoulder was a worthy compromise. And then his other hand curled around her waist on the opposite side. It also slipped under her shirt, but deviated from its twin, tracing a path upwards towards her ribs.

Her shirt lifted slightly, the cool air curling over her exposed abdomen, making the burn of his hands on her skin even more noticeable. His right thumb absently circled her belly button. Anticipation built as his left hand crept slowly upwards, halting as it reached her bra.

She felt the hitch in Fitz’s breath against her neck as his fingers reached their goal. Even after all the time they had spent together, there were still moments of intimacy where Fitz seemed overwhelmed. Maybe he was still carrying the guilt of the pain his actions in the Framework had caused her. Maybe their forced absence was heightening the sensations he was experiencing. Either way, Jemma found it endearing.

He gently squeezed at her breast through the thin material, his kisses against her neck becoming more insistent. But not enough to leave a mark. Fitz knew just how far he could take things without tainting her virtue; they had an unspoken agreement that any marks would most definitely be in areas covered by clothing.

Jemma was fairly sure the team would know they were up to _something_ when left alone, but she certainly didn’t want to provide them with physical proof. If only they knew Fitz was currently ravishing her against the door of the lab instead of discussing equations and bickering over theories. She couldn’t tell if the flush in her cheeks was because of that thought, or the slight pressure of his teeth where her collarbone met her neck.

And then his fingernails found the outline at the top of her bra, following it to the cleft between her breasts. The garment suddenly felt very constrictive. She briefly considered unhooking it to give Fitz more room, but was deterred from the idea when she realised she wouldn’t have the time - or motor skills - to readjust it quickly enough if someone appeared.

However, Fitz didn’t seem hampered by the offending material, curling his fingers under the rim until the back of his nails grazed across her nipple. She felt a ripple of pleasure traverse down her body, her internal muscles clenching of their own accord.

She couldn’t help the groan that escaped. It was only small, but in the absence of other sounds, it seemed overt.

“Jemma, I don’t have enough data to ascertain how soundproof the room is. But this door is pretty thin, so you might want to take that into account.” His voice sounded sexy as hell when it dropped to its lower register, his accent becoming thicker.

“I can think of one way to muffle the sound,” she suggested. She grabbed the knot on the red bandana that encircled his neck, tugging on it until her lips covered his. For a moment he seemed surprised by her audacity, but then he kissed her back in earnest. She was right; the sounds each of them made seemed to be swallowed by the other but even their breaths sounded harsh. And then Fitz broke away from her mouth.

“I believe you are getting distracted. Again.”

“I’ve calculated how much time I can divert my attention,” she said, quickly glancing at the hallway to make sure there were no changes. “So, unless you don’t trust my math skills…”

“Oh, I trust _all_ your skills,” Fitz interjected. She could feel his smile against her neck as he resumed his previous actions. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the situation. Although, not as much as her, she decided, when the heat of his tongue pressed into her earlobe just as he pinched her nipple, causing her knees to give way slightly. Both his hands instinctively held her more tightly against him, helping support her without halting their movement.

“Oh, _Fitz_ ,” she said, biting her lip belatedly after the words had already escaped. She didn’t know what else she wanted to say anyway. But the sound of his name tumbling breathily from her mouth seemed encouragement enough. He dragged his fingers across her skin to copy the action on her other breast. Each area his hands were exploring felt divine, yet she craved more.

Her left hand reached behind her, desperate for more contact. Her hand landed on his hip and her fingers dug in slightly, probing into the muscles at the top of his thigh. He was pressed up tight against her, but she managed to squeeze her hand between them, until it reached the distinct bulge in his pants.

She felt, rather than heard, him groan against her skin. His hands stopped for a moment, all attention diverted to where her fingers were clasped around him.

“Jem.” Fitz had a way of making her name alone sound like a prayer being both uttered and granted simultaneously.

 _So, who is distracted now?_ She grinned at her victory while keeping watch. He should have accounted better for her competitive streak.

She traced the zipper until she reached his belt, fumbling with the buckle. The action seemed to jolt Fitz back to his senses and she felt his pelvis retreat as his left hand slipped out from under her shirt to grab her hand, halting her movements.

“As much as I would _love_ to explore other activities,” he said, guiding her hand back to the cool glass and pressing it back into place, “ _that_ is too risky to be on the agenda.”

He kept his hand pressed against hers, his fingers slotting into the gaps between her own. The trail of warmth where his hand had been travelling over her skin was dissipating, and the absence of his chest encasing her left her feeling more exposed, despite being fully clothed.

But soon she sensed his body move to fill the space, shuffling slightly until he seemed to mould against her once more. And then she felt his knee nudging its way between her thighs. She parted her legs willingly, welcoming the firmness of his upper thigh as it pressed against her crotch. Her body was pleading for extra contact, her pelvis shamelessly pushing more firmly against his leg.

Luckily Fitz still had her hand pinned against the door, because her hormones were compelling her to make another grab for him. She wasn’t totally oblivious to the limitations of their current activity, but she wouldn’t mind a _little_ more freedom to explore under his clothes as well. It only seemed fair.

She was debating giving him her most imploring look in the hope that he may relent and let her return the favour, but coherent thoughts were cut short when she felt his right hand start moving southward. His deft fingers burrowed under the band of her underwear, pushing past the small thatch of curls until they found the sensitive hub of nerves hidden below, applying just the barest pressure.

 _Holy shit._ A surge of adrenalin coursed through her, and she couldn’t ascertain whether it was because her brain was telling her, ‘ok _this_ is too risky’ _,_ or because her body was saying ‘don’t you _dare_ make him stop’.

She grabbed him by the wrist, and his hand stilled. She could feel his rapid warm breaths against her cheek, keeping in time with her own.

The stakes had just increased. But as much as she wanted to be all-in, chance hadn’t always been kind to them.

“Don’t worry, Jemma,” he said, acknowledging her concerns, “you will notice them long before they see us.”

His hand remained patient, waiting.

Her grip remained unmoved, indecisive.

She could feel herself throbbing against where his fingers rested.

She turned her head until she was looking up into his eyes, a thin rim of blue surrounding pupils blown wide by arousal. Eyes promising comfort and protection and love.

The furrow in her brow lessened somewhat. Her fingers slowly released the pressure against his wrist, but still kept contact.

He held her gaze with unwavering loyalty.

And then the palm of her hand let him go altogether, snaking behind his head to grab the hair at the back of his neck, pulling them together until her lips were clashing against his, hard.

He responded with equal pressure and then opened his mouth, his tongue rolling against hers. Jemma briefly forgot his other actions as her mind zeroed in on his familiar but long denied taste as his tongue duelled against hers with fervour. She started feeling lightheaded, unsure if it was from lack of oxygen, or sheer pleasure coursing through her body. Her hips jerked forward against his hand, and her head fell back slightly as she gasped. Her eyes were still closed from when she had been kissing Fitz and when she opened them, it was to his enamoured gaze. His tongue unconsciously swept over the corner of his lip, then his eyes flicked down to where his hand disappeared beneath her waistband before returning to her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Despite his previous confidence, he searched her features for confirmation.

“Fitz,” she said in a strained whisper, “ _please._ ”

She could actually see the wave of lust wash over him, and then his fingers started moving, slowly at first, hesitantly adding more pressure.

She captured his lips once more, trying to convey years of devotion in an adoring kiss. She only lasted a few seconds before the sensation from her lower body became overwhelming and she tipped her head back, taking a deep breath. She tried to control herself, pushing her forehead against the glass as she felt Fitz’s fingers delve lower, searching for the wetness that was gathering between her thighs. His middle finger slipped between her folds, brushing over her centre, circling it torturously slowly before making a slick trail back to the throbbing bundle of nerves.

She stifled her groan. They might have the visual advantage from their position, but she didn’t want to test the concerns over the soundproofing of the room.

His thigh felt firm against her crutch and she was amazed how deftly Fitz was able to move within the confines of her pants. She shouldn’t have been surprised though; he was unrivalled when it came to fine motor skills. And she did mean _fine_ motor skills. She was certainly reaping the benefits of his endless hours of tinkering with intricate objects.

His left hand suddenly detached itself from hers, instead weaving downwards to assist. He parted her outer lips, exposing her clitoris more fully, making the next sweep of his fingers even more intense.

“Oh god, _Fitz_.”

She kept her head against the door, technically maintaining duty, but also because she wasn’t quite sure she could hold her head up properly anyway. The fogginess of the hallway blurred even more as her breaths splashed across the glass.

He trailed two fingers down her slit again, curling them just inside her and holding them for a moment, her muscles clenching around him. She was torn between wanting him to push deeper but also resume the mind-blowing movements up higher.

She wanted him _everywhere_.

She blindly grabbed behind her, capturing the edge of his jacket. The leather bunched in her grasp and she pulled on it tightly, as though it was an anchor. She tilted her head, exposing her neck more fully and Fitz seized the opportunity to place wet kisses on the offered skin. His short beard tickled her soft flesh and she revelled in the new sensation.

He gathered more moisture and again dragged his fingers upwards, slickly tracing ever-tightening circles around her clit.

It was too much and still not enough: his fingers, his tongue, his beard, his _scent._ She started praying to gods she didn’t even believe in.

His movements became more insistent as he sensed the desperation in her, flicking over the small nub rapidly as he sighed against her ear: “Come on, Jemma.”

The heat was radiating off him, even through the layers of clothing that separated them. She could feel her muscles beginning to clench, a familiar warmth starting to spread in her lower abdomen.

“Fitz,” she started in a strained whisper, eyes clenched tight, “I’m coming…I’m coming.”

His hot breath was in time with her panting, and it took two more sweeps of his fingers for the pleasure to finally tip her over the edge, rippling through her as she tensed in his arms.

He stopped moving, holding her protectively until he felt her finally relax in his embrace. And when he pressed his lips against her cheek, she could feel the smile against her skin.

She looked up at him, the besotted look in his eyes complementing the playfulness in his tone as he whispered: “You always excelled at following instructions.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to nuritacobarrubias for insisting I write this story myself instead of giving the prompt to someone else, and for her amazing beta skills. You're the best!


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